


a game of frog and mouse

by summerdayghost



Category: GAIMAN Neil - Works, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, PRATCHETT Terry - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Cold War, M/M, Moving In Together, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 14:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16536551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerdayghost/pseuds/summerdayghost
Summary: The year is 1979. Aziraphale is KGB and Crowley is CIA. They have an Arrangement.





	a game of frog and mouse

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for fail_fandomanon’s 100 words of spy AUs. This is closer to 1k than 100 words.

This time they met on a bus stop bench. The ducks were starting to get pudgy and they should lay off feeding them for a little while. That’s what Crowley said anyways. Aziraphale wasn’t sure why that should be any of their concern, it wasn’t like they were solely responsible, but he agreed anyway.

He wasn’t very far into his book when Crowley showed up. He plopped down so close to him that Aziraphale would have scooted away if he wasn’t already at the edge of the bench.

Crowley must have sensed his discomfort for once, “What is it angel?”

He’d been calling Aziraphale “angel” since the day they met. As far as he was aware Crowley had always known what his real job was. The name didn’t make sense then, and it didn’t make sense now. Aziraphale was raised without religion but he still knew he was far from whatever they call holy. The only world where it made even a little sense would be the one where Crowley was trying it out for the first time.

(Well, that and the world where Aziraphale was actually an angel, but that world was far from his reach.)

He would be exactly the sort to do that. Crowley had a glint in his eye a few times the last time they met that made Aziraphale worry he was going to try to call him “sugar” or “sweetheart” or, heaven forbid, “honeybun”. If a person were take a bite out of Aziraphale he was quite sure he would taste more like tea than candy. Metaphorically speaking that is.

Some part of Aziraphale wished that Crowley would stop calling him that in public. It gave the wrong impression. Well, actually it now gave the exact right impression, but the exact right impression was not the impression Aziraphale wanted to leave.

“Us being seen so close together. It’s suspicious,” Aziraphale looked around for people that could be watching or listening, “What if someone from your side found out about The Arrangement?”

Or worse yet, someone from Aziraphale’s side.

“They will if you keep referencing it like that.”

The Arrangement was something very special. They had only officially had it for little less than a year now but it was as follows. Both of them liked living in England (albeit for opposite reasons). They did their jobs well enough that their bosses didn’t get angry, but mediocrely enough that they wouldn’t be top of the list for a fancy new assignment halfway across the globe. It what they had always been doing independently of each other anyway. The only thing that was new was that they now collaborated to try to ensure balance between their respective nations. If the scale tipped the world could end and neither of them wanted that. England was a part of the world after all.

Was this treasonous? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Maybe.

“If you wanna talk about suspicious, let’s talk about your totally implausible alias. Aziraphale Fell,” he drew out every syllable of the name, “What was Andropov bored?”

“It’s not that unusual.”

“No one is named Aziraphale. It’s literally just you,” Crowley with teeth that couldn’t really be as sharp as they seemed in that moment, “Also out of all the last names to pair with it you went with Fell?”

He frowned because happened to like this name a great deal better than his real one, “It isn’t like Anthony Crowley is all that much better.”

“Oh, it's way better,” he spread his hands as he said “way better” as if to illustrate exactly how much “way better” it was.

Aziraphale resisted turning his body to fully face Crowley opting to look down back at his book so that passersby could think he was reading, “It’s only one letter off from a character in a children’s rhyme.”

“Move in with me.”

Aziraphale’s brain short circuited for a moment, “What?”

Crowley threw an arm across Aziraphale’s shoulders and took a deep breath, “I’ve been thinking ever since what happened the last time I saw you, and it’s a natural next step.”

Their last meeting had concluded with a kiss. Aziraphale couldn’t have explained what he had been thinking when he did it if he wanted to. It had been impulsive and stupid and he was in the middle of apologizing when Crowley cut him off. With his lips.

Aziraphale didn’t have much in the of experience with romantic relationships, but he was pretty sure calling a moving van after the first kiss was jumping the gun a little bit.

“Are you sure about that?” Aziraphale was wondering what he had missed.

“We’ve been together for how long now?” Crowley had a tone to his voice that Aziraphale didn’t much like.

He wasn’t sure if he would have said they were together now himself, but Crowley said it so that confirmed they were, “A week.”

Crowley shook his head, “I didn’t mean- Six years. We’ve known each other for six years and I’ve always… We’ve always… Besides it’s what’s best for The Arrangement. It’ll make things more efficient.”

Despite having nothing to choke on he still managed to somehow choke a little bit upon hearing that, “What would Turner think if word got back to him that you were shacking up with the likes of someone like me?”

“He’d tell me I was doing my job properly, I think,” Crowley’s hand traveled to Aziraphale’s hair, “They gotta have that old saying, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’ where you’re from too.”

It would have been nice if their lives were simple enough that it was clear which part of the saying applied to them in reality, “My boss wouldn’t be happy at all.”

“If worse comes to worse you could defect,” Crowley said as if that wasn’t something Aziraphale had been dreaming of ever since he stepped off that plane, “Besides it’s nice and private in my flat. No bugs or anything.”

Or at least no bugs last he had checked.

“Your flat?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” Crowley shrugged, “It’s nicer than your place so it would make sense.”

“I’m not giving up the bookstore,” his grip on his book tightened as if to make his point.

“Oh, keep the bookstore. By all means continue to be the little book mouse you are. You can live with me and keep the bookstore,” Crowley nudged him, “If anything it would be better this way. You could keep the strangest, most customer hostile hours possible and blame it all on me.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, “This is some plan to kill me, isn’t it?”

Crowley straightened up as if a jolt had been sent through him, “No! Of course not. Don’t you trust me?”

Such a stupid question didn’t deserve to be dignified with an answer.

“Look I’m not,” Crowley leaned over in order to read directly from the book in Aziraphale’s lap, “‘the totally malign capitalist succubus’ they told you I would be at home. Wait, what the hell are you reading?”

“The Crucible,” he sighed, “Tell me why you want this really.”

Aziraphale hoped Crowley wouldn’t say those three cursed words, I, love, and you. He knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Crowley took a few moments to respond, “It feels so empty in my flat with just me and I get so lonely because I’m all alone except for you and we love each other.”

Well, “We love each other,” wasn’t exactly those three words.

*

Crowley complained about how heavily the boxes of books were the whole way up the stairs but it was his fault really. He was the one who told Aziraphale he could bring a few without realizing what a few really meant, and he was the one that offered to help carry them.

“Hm,” Aziraphale set down the boxes he was carrying.

Crowley was still panting even though he had picked the lightest package, “What?”

“Oh nothing,” Aziraphale turned around to fully take in the place, “Just never pegged you as the sort to keep house plants.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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